Hunted
by Moff
Summary: This is the first story I have written in a long time, and I'm sure that my fans, so few, will appreciate this. Read & Review. I love criticism! Well, I fancy it.
1. Chapter One

  
  
HUNTED  
  
  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
  
Trevor Avery ran.  
  
All around him red emergency lights flashed brightly while the loud wail of a klaxon reverberated all throughout the walls of the colony. Every corner Trevor approached could be conceiling the enemy. From any dark corner one of THEM could spring. So he ran.  
  
"You now have twenty-three minutes to reach minimum safe distance," droned the mechanical female voice drifting from loud speakers all over the colony.  
  
Trevor was sweating, panting. His muscles were beginning to throb dully with pain. But he could not, and would not, stop. Somewhere behind him, a heavy metal pipe carrying some of the colony's water ruptured, and gallon after gallon of water spilled from the ceiling, drenching Trevor as he ran. His sneakers slipped in the water, and a few times he almost fell, but every time he would stop himself and keep going.  
  
He ran into a cooridor marked "E" and contined to run until he saw the lift at the end. What he saw made him stop dead in his tracks. Only a few moments earlier he had been panting, dragging in his breath. Now, he dared not breath at all.  
  
At the end of the cooridor, blocking Trevor's path, was a sleek black form crouching on the floor. Its body quivered silently, waiting for Trevor to come near. So it could pounce. The creature's head resembled a black banana with razor-sharp teeth, which were now dripping with thick drool. A very agile tail wound itself around a pipe leading up the wall and disappearing in the ceiling.  
  
The alien hissed at Trevor. It then did a very peculiar thing. After a minute or two, the thing mounted the pipe it had a hold on and started up it, then disappeared into an open air vent.  
  
Trevor was frozen where he was, his breath coming in shallow pants. He felt his knees buckle and he fell to them. The tears of joy came then, and he wept silently. But then something interrupted his weeping.  
  
"You now have fifteen minutes to reach minimum safe distance."  
  
In a second, Trevor was on his feet, and before he knew it he was running to the lift. He practically threw himself inside and slammed the keypad on the interior wall beside the door. There was a loud hiss, making Trevor jump. It was only the door sliding shut. Within a second the lift was making its ascent, toward daylight, out of Hell.  
  



	2. Chapter Two

  
  
  
Chapter Two  
  
  
"Are you okay, Trev?" Donald Watson asked, a concerned look on his face. "You look a little pale."  
  
Trevor Avery took a deep breath and looked around. He was sitting in the colony mess hall eating something that resembled Jell-O, but could have been any number of other things. The autochef didn't worry about appearance when it came to food. Or taste, now that I think about it.  
  
"Do I?" Trevor said quietly. "I feel fine."  
  
"Are you sure?" Donald asked, holding a cup of warm coffee.  
  
"Yeah," Trevor said, taking a bite of his "food". He grimaced and said, "On second thought..."  
  
Donald smiled and chuckled quietly, setting down his coffee. He stared at Trevor for a moment longer, still trying to figure out if he really was all right. But then he was eating his mashed potatoes and talking about the day they both had ahead of them.  
  
Donald, a man of thirty-five who was already beginning to bald, was the colony's senior mechanic. Trevor, who had just turned twenty-four, was the only other mechanic on the entire planet. The two men were still trying to figure out what the hell went wrong with one of the power loaders. With such limited manpower, it often took a while to find a problem. Unfortunately, the Company was too damned busy (and too damned cheap) to ship a couple more mechanics out to Pheonix.  
  
The colony, which had been named Pheonix (some say because the planet somewhat resembled Arizona), was falling apart, and there wasn't a damn thing anyone could do. Technicians and engineers could barely keep the place from falling down on their heads. Everything was going to Hell in a handbasket.  
  
"Forget the power loader today," Donald said, finishing the last bit of mashed potatoes on his tray.  
  
"Huh? Why?" Trevor asked, taking a bite out of a fried egg, which tasted faintly of recycled cardboard.  
  
"The truck's broke down again," Donald muttered.  
  
"Shit," Trevor hissed, disgusted. "We fixed the damn thing a week ago! What the hell's wrong with it now?"  
  
"Front axel's busted up real bad. Thank God the Company had the brains to have a whole shipment sent over, otherwise we'd be fucked."  
  
"Who the hell managed to bust the axel?" Trevor said.  
  
"Davis and Phillips," Donald said, taking a sip from his coffee. "They were bringing in a load, thought they could make it over a rather steep incline, and quickly discovered they couldn't."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"The damn morons rolled it," Donald said. "The door is busted, too. And the left rear tire was torn almost completely off."  
  
"Aw, fuck," Trevor mumbled. "Just another shit job for us, eh?"  
  
"Looks that way. And the two bastards walked away without a scratch on either of 'em."  
  
"Fucking morons," Trevor said with bitter disgust. "Well, we'd better start early today. I'd like NOT to miss dinner again tonight."  
  
Donald nodded and the two men grabbed their trays and stood. After placing their trays in the Cleaner, they walked out, not saying a word.  
  
  
The truck looked less like a truck and more like a large tractor. It was about fifteen feet tall with a large bed in the back which could hold roughly five tons of, well, anything. Each tire was about six feet tall, and there were four of them. At that time, the truck was sitting in the shop, which was nearly completely filled with half-fixed gadgets and gizmos from all over Pheonix. It was a real mess.  
  
Donald Watson called it home. Trevor Avery called it claustrophobic. It didn't matter where you walked, you usually had an average of a foot of free space on either side of you. Very crowded indeed.  
  
The two men immediately got to work on the axel. Normally it wouldn't have taken them long to remove the busted axel and replace it with a brand new one, but in order to have enough space in which to work, the two men had to do a lot of rearranging. With the two of them working together, it took them only an hour or so to clear away enough junk to make room for them to work in.  
  
After that was done, they each took a short break to curse the Company, as well as Davis and Phillips. Immediately afterwards, the two of them were able to replace the damaged axel.  
  
Next, Trevor worked on replacing the useless rear tire while Donald removed the door on the driver's side. After Trevor had replaced the tire, he helped Donald carry a replacement door, which weighed over a hundred pounds, to the truck where they attached it into the frame where the original door once resided.  
  
Overall, it took the two men a little over four hours to complete the work on the truck. Very proud of themselves, they felt it necessary to go down to the local pub and get good and drunk. And they did just that.  
  
  



	3. Chapter Three

  
  
  
Chapter Three  
  
  
Trevor's ride in the lift lasted only two minutes. To Trevor, it felt more like an eternity. All around him, the warning lights flashed, and the loudspeakers wailed. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressed himself against a wall, and prayed that he would make it out alive.  
  
Something rocked the lift, making it shutter, caused Trevor to lose his balance and fall to the floor. His dark hair was slick with sweat and he brushed it absently away from his face. He was panting heavily as the lift was again rocked, and then there was an explosion.  
  
A burst of fire spilled into the lift, blasting the door wide open, making Trevor's flesh burn. And through it all, the lift continued upward. The door had not shut after it had been torn open by the blast, and so Trevor backed himself into a corner, hoping that he wouldn't tumble toward that open mouth.  
  
Finally, the lift came to a halt, and Trevor leaped through to opening and tumbled to the floor of Level 1. He was almost to the top. If he just kept going...  
Just then, the cables of the lift screeched loudly and tore loose from the top of the metal box. Trevor stared in horror as the lift disappeared from sight.  
  
Jesus Christ! he thought. I could have been IN there. He didn't stick around long enough to hear it crash to the bottom, sixteen levels down.  
  
"You now have twelve minutes to reach minimum safe distance," the speakers droned again.  
  
Everything that had happened in the past week was putting a real hard strain on Trevor's brain. It was as if everything was tumbling down on him at once. He started up the flight of stairs which would take him to the outside, and far away.  
  
As he climbed, he found himself thinking of that night in the pub when he and Donald had gotten drunk. That was the night that had changed Trevor Avery's life forever.  
  
  



	4. Chapter Four

  
  
  
Chapter Four  
  
  
The pub, known to everyone as The Big Dipper, was crawling with workers from Pheonix who had spent the day slaving away. Miners, technicians, engineers, farmers. Even law enforcement officers were getting drunk. There was loud music, drinking, smoking, and even some prostitution.  
  
This was the average Pheonix night. Donald and Trevor were sitting up at the bar, each of them nursing a third beer. The day had been tiring. They would have come to The Big Dipper earlier except another power loader had sprung a leak. By seven-thirty, both of them had been covered with hydraulic fluid and grease.  
  
But they were here now, and they were ready to get drunk. Trevor finished his third beer and pushed it away. He sighed and looked around the pub. Cigarette smoke had drifted to the ceiling and now a rather dense cloud had formed. The air scrubbers were working overtime to recycle the air, but Trevor knew it was useless. Those scrubbers were old and working at only half capacity. He made a mental note to tear them apart and have a look tomorrow.  
  
"Quit worrying about the scrubbers," Donald muttered.  
  
Trevor turned to his friend. "So you're a mind reader now?"  
  
"Don't have to be," Donald said. "I could see you lookin' at 'em like they were going to be the downfall of humanity and you had to do somethin' about 'em. Don't worry, we'll get to them one of these days."  
  
"Yeah, after we 'get around' to that power loader we don't know what's wrong with it, that toaster that doesn't toast, and that vibrator that don't vibrate."  
  
"Vibrator?" Donald muttered, a smile creeping across his lips.  
  
"Forget it," Trevor said, starting in on a fourth beer. "I'm drunk."  
  
"Shit," Donald said, staring at his own drink. "The brew on this planet is STRONG stuff. Never in my entire LIFE have I ever drank something this strong." He took a sip from the beer. "I can drink a six-pack of the normal stuff and never feel a thing. But THIS..."  
  
Somewhere behind them, somebody fell out of their chair, spilling several drinks. About a dozen drunken workers were now laughing their asses off. No one took notice of the man who had stumbled in. His face and clothes were dirty and he walked like he had had a few too many.  
  
"Help me..." he croaked.  
  
Trevor turned and saw the man approaching. For some reason, and he had no idea why, the sight of the man sent chills up his spine and he was unable to say a word.  
  
"Help me..." the man repeated.  
  
"Go home, Fred," Donald said to the man. "You're drunk. Nancy'll be worried."  
  
Then Trevor realized that it was Fred Wincott, a technician who worked on Level 17. He probably just had a lot to drink, but still...  
  
Suddenly, Fred screamed. The scream was so loud that everyone in the pub heard it, even with the music up loud. In fact, the scream was so loud, that everyone went quiet. The bartender even shut off the music. And there was something about that scream. And when Trevor saw Fred fall to the floor and begin to seizure, he wanted to yell "Get away from him!"  
  
Several workers went to Fred's side and tried to help him. The man's muscles continued to spasm, and he began screaming again, spittle flying from his lips.  
  
Trevor saw it first. The red. It was spreading on Fred's dirty shirt, turning it a dark crimson. Then the tearing sound, and the monster...  
  
Without warning, something exploded out of Fred's chest, splattering more than half a dozen people with warm blood. A small creature, no larger than a small cat, tore itself from the lifeless form and began screeching.  
  
Some people back away, others jumped. The thing pulled away and bounced off of Fred's body. It ran into the crowd, making people scream and run. And then several people vomitted.  
  
Trevor stared for a moment, dazed. The world around him had ceased to exist. All of it had just faded away to darkness, leaving him alone. He then dimly became aware of the blood dripping down his face. Fred's blood.  
  
"Don't let it get away!" Trevor screamed suddenly, coming back to reality. He yelled this so loud that Fred's scream only moments earlier was completely forgotten. And then, before anyone could say anything, Trevor had jumped off of his stool and was running in the direction that the creature had fled.  
  
Trevor pushed his way through the crowd and followed a trail of blood. Every now and then he would spot a small piece of Fred's innards. He ran to the back of the pub and threw himself to the floor.  
  
The trail of blood ended at the opening of a small air vent close to the floor. Trevor peered inside and saw nothing but blackness. He rolled over and put his back up against the wall. He pressed his eyelids shut and shook his head. He was not aware of the dozens of people staring at him.  
  
"It's gone," he muttered. "Jesus Christ, it's gone."  
  
  



	5. Chapter Five

  
  
  
Chapter Five  
  
  
"You now have ten minutes to reach minimum safe distance," the voice warned.  
  
A pipe ruptured and steam shot out in a scalding jet. Trevor ducked under it and continued on. The outside was so CLOSE. And then he came to the door. He rammed it open with his shoulder and found himself outside. Rain was pouring from clouds hidden by the night sky. In the distance he could see one of the atmosphere processing stations, a dark spire in the night.  
  
He walked out into the rain and looked up into the sky. The rain was soaking him to the bone, making him shiver. But it felt so great to be alive. Trevor closed his eyes and began laughing. His own laugh scared him a little so he decided that he should stop and get to the hangar. There would be a ship there, and he would be able to escape.  
  
The hangar was a tall building about two hundred yards away. It looked like five miles. He knew he only had a small amount of time left before the whole place went up. So he ran.  
  
  
Trevor was unaware of the thing that followed him. It blended in well with the night, and it was nearly invisible. The creature was not very intellegent, but it had excellent senses, and it had been following him since the encounter at the lift. The alien could feel his heart pounding in its head, could feel the warmth coming off of him.  
  
It crawled down from the atmosphere processor and stalked its prey. The alien may not have been bright, but it was clever in its own ways. It knew something was wrong with the earth beneath its feet. Something was happening down there. Something was going to go off. And it was going to be big.  
  
The alien's plan was simple: It would follow Trevor and see where he would go. The human most likely had an escape planned, therefore, something bad WAS going to happen, meaning that it had to get away from this place.  
  
It followed close behind Trevor, knowing that if it got too close he would become suspicious. It would have to kill him, and then it would have no way to escape. The hive would cease to exist.  
  
  



	6. Chapter Six

  
  
  
Chapter Six  
  
  
The search began fourty-five minutes after the incident in the pub. Howard Benson, the colony administrator, had been informed of the incident after everyone had gathered they're senses. He had called in law enforcement and infromed them of the situation. They would be taking weapons.  
  
Trevor was sitting in the living room of his apartment when Donald had arrived. He looked shaken pretty badly. This was putting strain on everybody. Donald was trembling and he looked scared.  
  
"Can you believe this shit?" he said, taking a seat on the couch.  
  
Trevor sat in the chair across from Donald. He stared blankly at his friend. He shook his head.  
  
"And to think, I was drunk an hour ago," Donald muttered. "This kind of shit sobers you up. REAL quick."  
  
Trevor said nothing.  
  
"Trev, are you okay?" Donald asked. He looked concerned.  
  
"No," Trevor said, leaning back in his chair. "I'm not okay."  
  
"What's eating you?" Donald said, leaning forward.  
  
"Cancer," Trevor said plainly.  
  
"That ain't funny, Trev." Donald stared at him. "Not at all."  
  
"I know," Trevor said, standing up. "That's what I told the doctor."  
  
Trevor walked over to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of warm scotch. Donald just stared off into space, a look of sadness on his face.  
  
"How long do you have?" he said quietly.  
  
Trevor drained his glass and poured another. "I don't know. Could be a year, could be fifteen. Hell, I may have a month." He finished his glass and then filled it again.  
  
Donald turned and looked at his friend. "When did you get the news?"  
  
"Four days ago." He quit pouring and began drinking straight from the bottle.  
  
"No wonder you've been...distant," Donald muttered.  
  
"Yeah," Trevor said, setting down the bottle. He walked back into the living room and sat in his chair. "And all this is helping either."  
  
"Trevor," Donald said. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"No," Trevor said. "Do you?"  
  
"Not in the least."  
  
Trevor smiled. There was no humor in it. "Okay, then. You want a drink?"  
  
"Oh, yes," Donald said, standing. "I think I'll take two."  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter Seven

  
  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
  
Trevor entered the hangar and was relieved to see the cargo vessel resting in its usual spot. He uttered a sigh and went to it. He couldn't fly worth shit, so he was thankful these things had autopilot. How much time was left? Eight minutes? Five?  
  
He didn't want to wait around to find out. The cargo ramp was located at the rear. Trevor walked around to it and pressed a few buttons on the keypad. With a hydraulic whir, the ramp lowered and he climbed inside. Quickly, he took a quick look around to make sure there weren't any unexpected visitors.  
  
After making sure the ship was clean, Trevor went back to the ramp and closed it. He then made his way to the front of the ship where the cockpit was. Trevor climbed inside and strapped himself into the pilot's chair. He tapped a few keys, activating the computer.  
  
He started the engines, which came on with a loud rumble, and activated the autopilot. Immediately, the ship began to hover. Trevor plotted his course and waited impatiently as the ship moved forward quickly, and approached the opening in the hangar.  
  
Within seconds, the cargo ship blasted out of the hangar and began its ascent into the stratosphere. The floor beneath his feet rumbled as the engines came to their full capacity. Through the night sky he could begin to see stars. Never had he seen sight so beautiful. And he thanked God he was alive.  
  
He was safely in the vacuum of space when the entire colony disappeared in a hot white flash. 


	8. Chapter Eight

  
  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
  
Eight men armed with handguns descended the stairs leading into the heart of the colony. Seventeen floors below sat the colony's reactor. Their trackers blipped quietly, picking up nothing. They had tracked the creature moving in air ducts nearly two hours earlier, never seeing it. There were no pets here in Pheonix, and no rats. The only thing they could be following was It.  
  
And now they were following it into the very bowels of the place. A few minutes earlier it had appeared on their trackers, but now it was gone. The man in charge, Johnson was his name, asked everyone to stop.  
  
"I've got something," he said, pointing to his left. "Over there."  
  
Among the group of men was Donald Watson. He had volunteered to go searching for the creature. He wanted that thing's head on his wall. It would make an interesting piece next to his picture of the Mona Lisa and his college degree. The gun in his hand was getting heavy, and the air was getting thicker, hotter. They were getting closer to the reactor.  
  
All around them, machinery was pounding, making a lot of noise. Everyone was looking a bit jumpy, a bit nervous. Now they all swung their trackers to the left, and each one picked up a blip.  
  
"It's over there, all right," Donald muttered.  
  
The group continued down the stairs, moving in silence. On their trackers, the white blip was moving slowly. It was moving away from them.  
  
After several minutes, the signal began to fade. Several moments later, it disappeared altogether.  
  
"Shit!" Johnson hissed. "Where the fuck is that bastard?"  
  
Donald saw that everyone was sweeping their trackers in front of them and to the side. He had an idea, and if he picked up a signal he knew it would scare the shit out of him. He swung his tracker around to his right and then behind the group. Beep. Nine meters.  
  
"Jesus Christ," Donald muttered. "It's behind us."  
  
Johnson and the rest of the group turned and picked up the same signal on their trackers. Eight meters and closing.  
  
"The little shit is coming right for us," Johnson said. His face was covered with sweat.  
  
Everyone knew they were looking for a creature no larger than your average cat, so why were they all scared shitless? They all had guns, and they all knew how to pull a trigger. So why were they worried?  
  
"Seven meters," someone said. "God help us."  
  
"Remember, aim for the body," Johnson said. "If we all shoot, it doesn't have a chance."  
  
Six meters and coming closer. Donald felt his knees begin to tremble. His gun was pointed in front of him, and it was beginning to weigh down his arm. Jesus, he thought. Either come or stay there. Just do it fast.  
  
"Wait," Donald said, turning to his right. "It's moving to the side."  
  
"Little bastard," Johnson mumbled.  
  
Donald took a step forward. His tracker read five meters. And it was still moving to the side.  
  
"It's coming around behind us again," Johnson said, annoyed.  
  
Everyone turned around again with their trackers and pointed their weapons forward. Nothing. Not one signal.  
  
Donald was just about to say "This is wrong", when something hissed behind him. He turned around and saw, five feet in front of him, a dark figure with claws, a tail, and sharp teeth. It drooled and stared at him.  
  
"No eyes," Donald whispered dryly.  
  
Johnson turned to look at Donald. "What the hell are you talk--"  
  
It struck. Johnson got off a shot before the black creature burst forward and wrapped its hands around his throat and lifted him off of the floor. The thing threw him violently, snapping his neck. The rest of the group was too frightened to do a damn thing. Donald made a move.  
  
Completely unaware of what he was doing, Donald turned to the creature and fired three times into its back, removing a large chunk of it. The alien screamed and turned to face its attacker. The unfortunate people behind the alien were immediately drenched with its acidic blood. The screams of pain which followed are too horrible to describe.  
  
One person had been untouched by the acid, and somehow found himself turning and running back the way they had come. Donald and the alien were left alone. The alien rushed at him, inner mouth exposed. He got off two more shots before the creature bit into his skull, crushing it, releasing chunks of bloody brain. The man never had time to scream.  
  
  
Trevor heard the news while he was eating in the mess hall. One survivor. A man who was blabbering about demons and how they were all going to die. Trevor didn't have to be told. He knew it wasn't Donald. Donald was dead.  
  
  



	9. Chapter Nine

  
  
  
Chapter Nine  
  
  
Sneaking into the ship had been easy. The man had opened the ramp and gone inside. The alien had wasted no time in crawling inside. It had moved quickly and had hidden itself before the man had even turned around.  
  
The man had exited a few moments earlier and it was left by itself. There had been a rumble and the creature felt as if it were floating. The sensation soon passed and it found it could move easily.  
  
It would wait for the man to come back.  
  
  
Trevor sighed with relief at the sight of so many stars. He had escaped with his life, and now the only thing that worried him was cancer. But even that seemed unimportant at the moment. For the time being he would think about Earth. Home. In a few minutes he should go crawl into a hypersleep chamber and sleep the rest of the trip.  
  
He unbuckled his harness and climbed out of his chair. The course had been set and the cargo ship would return to Earth, three weeks from now. Trevor was already looking forward to the long sleep. He just prayed he wouldn't have nightmares.  
  
  
The alien sensed movement. The human was returning. Now was the time to kill it and be done with it.  
  
  
Trevor left the cockpit and entered the area of the small craft where three cryo-tubes sat, waiting. He went to the nearest tube and tapped for a few seconds on the keypad built into it. With a hiss, the tube slid open. Three weeks. Just as he was about ready to climb into the tube, he heard a hiss. He knew it wasn't mechanical this time.  
  
Even as Trevor was turning around to look behind him, he knew exactly what he would see. Dark, sleek body. Elongated skull with a set of killing teeth. The long, agile tail. He stared it directly in the face. Again it hissed, and revealled its inner mouth which began extending slowly from the creature's open jaws.  
  
  



	10. Chapter Ten

  
  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
  
Less than an hour after the entire colony had heard of the death of seven of the eight men who went deep into the facility, there was another piece of bad news. The reactor, which powered nearly everything in Pheonix, was malfunctioning. It was an old piece of machinery, and it was beginning to overheat. Soon, it would meltdown, and there would be no stopping it.  
  
"Goddamn company," someone said in the cooridor outside Trevor's apartment. "Too fucking cheap to get us a new reactor. Now we're fucked."  
  
Trevor was once again holding a bottle of scotch, taking a few sips every now and then. For the time being, everyone was packing up most of their belongings. There was going to be a mass evacuation. Most people felt almost joyous at the prospect of leaving the God-awful place, while others were almost saddened. Trevor could give a rat's ass.  
  
No one was really worrying about the alien lifeform below their feet during those few hours when everyone was bustling around, carrying boxes, suitcases, and other personal belongings. Everyone was worried about the reactor, which was slowly getting weakened by the stress of it all.  
  
There were only about eighty people in Pheonix, so the evacuation was going to be no problem at all. In the hangar there were four spacecraft. The colonists would be taking three of them, which was more than enough. Those spacecraft had very large cargo holds, and almost enough sleep chambers for everyone. A few people would have to stay awake for the three week trip, but that was no problem for anyone. They were leaving the last ship because it wouldn't be able to sustain more than three people for the journey. It was one of the many things on Donald and Trevor's "To Do List".  
  
Trevor didn't want to leave. He was thinking about Donald, and the other six who were killed by that creature seventeen levels down. No one wanted to go up against that thing. Not that it mattered to anyone anyway. They were all going home.  
  
After the bottle of scotch had been sucked dry, Trevor left his apartment and staggered out into the cooridor. A few people walked by, carrying their luggage. They were going to load it all into the ships.  
  
An hour later, everyone was boarding the three spacecraft. At the same time, seventeen levels below, Trevor Avery was lying passed out in a cooridor, while a mechanical female voice droned, "You now have fifty-seven minutes to reach minimum safe distance."  
  
  
Trevor had found another supply of scotch and had finished it all off in no time at all. Very drunk and disoriented, he stumbled into a lift and rode it all the way to the bottom. After more than half an hour of wandering, he had just collapsed in the hallway.  
  
When he had awakened, everyone had already left, and the loudspeakers were saying, "You now have thirty-two minutes to reach minimum safe distance." Suddenly filled with panic, Trevor had looked around, desperately trying to figure out where he was. After a few minutes of walking, he had easily found his way and started for a lift.  
  
The rest is history.  
  
  



	11. Chapter Eleven

  
  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
  
Trevor Avery swallowed hard as he stared at the creature. Its eyeless face stared back. He felt his skin crawl with goosebumps, felt his knees tremble. He was going to die.  
  
Again, the alien hissed, swinging its tail to and fro. Its inner mouth had stopped moving forward and remained still, two inches from Trevor's sweating face. Trevor felt the blood pounding in his ears, could feel his breath coming in shallow. He was going to die.  
  
"You fucker," he croaked. "You killed Fred, then you killed Donald. I'll see you in Hell."  
  
More drool dripped from the alien's mouth. Trevor suddenly felt stronger, more confident. Suddenly, before he even realized he had done it, Trevor swung out with his right fist and punched the creature in the side of its head. Trevor was surprised at how hard and tough the alien's exoskeleton was, and he had felt two of his fingers break as he hit it.  
  
Exoskeleton or not, the alien definitely felt the punch. It let out a squeal as its head jerked violently to the side and it lost its balance. Trevor fell to the floor, holding his wounded hand. The creature also fell to the floor, and began thrashing its tail violently, whipping Trevor across the chest several times, tearing the front of his shirt, drawing blood.  
  
Trevor rolled away, groaning. The alien slowly got to its feet and hissed again. Trevor knew what that hiss meant. The thing was pissed. It grabbed his feet and began pulling him across the floor. He tried to grasp on to something, but could not manage.  
  
Then he spied a rather large wrench lying discarded on the floor. It was one of Donald's heavier wrenches. The two of them had been doing repairs in here a few days earlier. As the creature continued to drag Trevor, he grabbed a hold of the wrench with his good hand, rolled onto his back, and struck the alien's arm. Trevor definitely heard a snap as the wrench fractured the creature's exoskeleton, sending a small spray of its blood across the cargo bay.  
  
Trevor watched in facination as the blood splashed against an electrical cable in one of the cargo bay's walls. The blood immediately began melting the thick cable, sending out a shower of sparks. As the cable continued to spark loudly, the creature drew back a little, holding its wounded arm.  
  
Trevor got to his feet and staggered over to the cable, watching the sparks flying from the severed end. How many volts were running through that? Trevor wasn't an electrician, but he had a pretty damn good idea that it was a hell of a lot. He grabbed the cable (making sure he didn't touch the sparking end) and wrenched it out of the wall. The cable he held in his hands was about three feet long, and it was still throwing off sparks.  
  
The alien turned its head in his direction, jaws gaping. It started forward, slow at first, but then it was running full speed. Jesus it was fast! And a split second before it collided with Trevor and the wall, Trevor lashed out with the cable, and rammed it right into the creature's open mouth.  
  
There was a loud popping sound, like a firecracker, and then there was the burnt smell of ozone. Trevor leaped away from the thrashing creature as a couple thousand volts surged through its body, boiling its insides. Sparks shot out of the thing's skull like fireworks as large chunks of its outer shell split apart and fell to the floor with a thud.  
  
Trevor could only watch as several minutes went by. The alien had been electricuted so badly that it was now just a black, burnt mass on the cargo bay floor, still smoldering. A few minutes earlier, the cable had shorted out, along with a few lights throughout the ship.  
  
But there was no doubt in Trevor's mind. The thing was dead. He went to it and touched its burnt skull with the toe of his shoe. The skull crumbled and fell apart, resembling large chunks of burnt ash. No acid spilled out.   
  
Trevor knew that he would never be able to climb into a sleep chamber without first disposing of the body, so he dragged what was left of the alien into the ship's only airlock. He jetisoned the body into the darkness of space and returned to the cryo-tubes.  
  
He stared at the same tube he had been ready to climb into when the alien had come back to him. For several minutes he stood staring. Then he smiled, closed his eyes, and whispered one word: "Home."  
  
Trevor got into the cryo-tube and sealed it. In the three weeks that followed, he slept more soundly than he ever had in his entire life.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
  



End file.
